


Three Little Words

by SydneyMo



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 19:14:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15780363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SydneyMo/pseuds/SydneyMo
Summary: A Gallya admission of love





	Three Little Words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [diadema](https://archiveofourown.org/users/diadema/gifts).



> This fic is both inspired by and dedicated to the wondrous, beautiful, amazing Diadema who has now been a member of the TMFU Ao3 family for a full year! Shannon, you are loved beyond belief. There aren't any words that can express just what a difference you've made and what an amazing and vital part of our family you've become. 
> 
> Though it's hard to know just what to say, we've certainly tried! If you open this link below (which anyone can read!) you'll see what I mean <3
> 
> Happy 1-year, sugar!
> 
> https://docs.google.com/document/d/e/2PACX-1vQlpsushSBDqNhBYUz1uqHsZCWUKdFKg-M67j-MhnHrNvvMCdUT0R00NBB8PVusnv4XPIeX8K2M3-74/pub

“I love you.”

She breathed the words into his collar, unsure if she said them loud enough for him to hear. The wind was blowing a warm breeze against her exposed back, her cocktail dress tickling against the muscles of her calves. Illya was humming, ignoring the party inside, reveling in this moment, this singular dance with his woman in his arms. The music was soft on the balcony filtering through the large glass windows, cracked to allow the night breeze into the stifling ballroom, the sound of laughter and chatter flowing aimlessly around them.

Gaby sighed, closing her eyes and shifting her arms to hold her Russian agent closer. He may be the KGB’s best and UNCLE’s ticket to gaining Eastern trust, but to her, he was simply Illya. Her Illya. She may be a defector, a German mechanic working as a British spy, but to him, she was simply Gaby. His Gaby. The labels placed on their shoulders, the baggage they carried like Prometheus through an unending Cold War, it seemed to vanish when their eyes met. The two of them, broken down to their most basic forms and put together again; unique pieces in a two-person puzzle, they were made only for each other, no matter the politics and walls that stood in their way.

It scared Gaby, her utter devotion to this man. And it scared him too, knowing just how tightly he found himself wrapped around her finger.

“What did you say?” Illya murmured, brushing a kiss atop her hair, colored raven in the moonlight.

She hummed a sigh, raising her head to look at him. His eyes were the deepest blue she had ever seen. Somehow warm and inviting despite all that he had seen.

“I love you.” She said again, a statement of fact rather than a profession of intimacy. He blinked once slowly as if coming out of a trance. His lips curled upwards, a small smile beginning to stretch across his features, his eyes becoming electric as he leaned down to kiss her.

“I know.”

Gaby laughed against his lips, shaking her head. “That’s all I get?”

“I do know this,” Illya replied, tucking her head under his chin and swaying from side to side. Despite his insistence when they first met, Illya was, of course, an excellent dancer. “You have told me before.”

Gaby pulled back far enough to look at him, a glimmer of amusement in her deep, brown eyes. “I think I would remember.” Illya’s raised eyebrow brought back memories of many a drunken wrestling match only partially recalled in the morning, but she rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“You have said this,” he insisted again, reaching an arm out to spin the German mechanic away from him and gracefully pull her back against his torso in an elegant twirl before leaning down, his lips brushing against her ear in a conspiratorial whisper.

“You talk in your sleep.”

She hit him then, an open palm against his chest, a laugh escaping her lips in a burst of beguilement. He chuckled alongside her, the two enjoying this one moment of openness and honesty. Despite all the obstacles they had come across, the walls put up both physically and emotionally, all the reasons they could not, should not, and would not grow attached to one another, they had gone beyond it. Growing with one another, allowing their barriers to fall brick by brick. Where there was once ice, there was now a bright, shining light of hope.

“I love you, too.” He hummed in response. “I love you, too.”

They stayed this way, swaying under the stars, ignoring the party and remaining in their own world, repeating the words in English, German, and Russian until they no longer sounded like words at all.


End file.
